|2. No Good Trying|
|3. Love You|
|4. No Man's Land|
|5. Dark Globe|
|6. Here I Go|
|8. Golden Hair|
|9. Long Gone|
|10. She Took A Long Cold Look|
|12. If It's In You|
|13. Late Night|
|14. Octopus (Takes 1 & 2)|
|15. It's No Good Trying (Take 5)|
|16. Love You (Take 1)|
|17. Love You (Take 3)|
|18. She Took A Long Cold Look At Me (Take 4)|
|19. Golden Hair (Take 5)|
The Madcap Laughs is the result. The first (and best) of Syd's two proper studio albums.
There's not a bad track on it. There's "Terrapin" with it's hypnotic drift. There's "Love You" with its poppy melody, chirpy piano and verbal diorrhea lyrics. There's emotional moments like "Dark Globe" and "Late Night", which Syd would never have tried on Piper at the Gates of Dawn. There's guitar fuzz on "No Man's Land". "There's No Good Trying", a loud piece of psychedelia with great drum work, "Here I Go" is Syd's reaction to being kicked out of the Floyd, "Golden Hair" is poetry in motion (literally), "Long Gone" could have sat well on a Pink Floyd album, with its wailing choruses and organ. Even the out of tune "If It's In You" is loveable. It's so bad it's good. You can hear what he's trying to do and how he's doing his best. It shows how difficult it was to record Syd, given his delicate mental state.
This isn't your average pop, rock or folk music. This is a journey. A journey inside a broken mind. Syd Barrett is still whimsical, he's still kind, he's still humourous. He's just a little hurt and a little confused here. Creatively, he's as good as he was on "Piper at the Gates of Dawn", if not better.
I recommend this album to Pink Floyd fans, and those looking to try something out of the ordinary.Read more ›
This album, put together with some of Pink Floyd and some of the members of Soft Machine, is weird, wonderful, and at times, heartbreaking. Syd's songs are, as in his hey day with Pink Floyd, child-like, but the wonder has turned to confusion in many of the songs. The first song "Terrapin" is a case in point. A simple Blues progression becomes a dirge of strummed electric guitars and Syd's words, a sort of mimimalist psychedelic masterpiece with the refain "oh, baby, my hair's on end about you." The emptiness surrounding this song is frightening.
This music is utter chaos, but it works for me. Recorded in 1970, however, this mid-60's flower-child feeling, sounds archaic, and you must be willing to forgo any sense of time to enjoy this music - sort of like being on the drugs that rendered Syd into basket case.